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'𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐬' ═══════╝
𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑
━━ -ˋˏ★ˎˊ- ━━
. . . LOTHAL, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑-𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 filtered over her closed eyelids like a blanket of rest. Birds chirped and chattered above where she lay, taking deep breaths of the scent of the world around her. Damp terra, fresh air, wildflowers. Nothing but empty sky for miles above and the biting chill of a blue-eyed afternoon as she tried to blink. Slowly, she could begin to feel the grass at the edges of her fingertips, the breeze that ruffled strands of her hair, and the sensation of cool fabric on her burning skin.
It had worked. Despite the pain throbbing throughout her body, Lyra Skywalker had returned to the plane of mortal reality.
"It won't be long, perhaps not long enough," Wynn had told her, pacing back and forth. "You'll have to find every single answer we don't have before that fire burns straight through you. And now that you've been here–"
For once, it was Lyra put in the position of being the calming voice of reason. Between the two of them, it hadn't happened often. "Aren't you the one that said fate is something we have influence over?"
Wynn had frowned, only vaguely annoyed. "Don't use my own words against me."
It was an ache to be so separated from Wynn. To know she was so close but again unreachable. Finding her had been like finding a piece of herself.
Now that Lyra's hearing had fully returned, she was greeted by the onslaught of a new voice.
"I have to say, I was starting to believe the rumors that you were finally dead."
Lyra's eyes snapped all the way open. Nascha's voice rang shrilly in her ears, and a curly-haired head blocked out the sunlight that had been pouring over her a second ago. Lyra lay on her back with her arms extended, trying to regain her wits. She vaguely remembered the scattered thoughts of leaving the World Between Worlds, attempting to make contact with Nascha, and at some point passing out from pure exhaustion.
